


In The Past

by SpiltSoda



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bittersweet, Character Death, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mother-Daughter Relationship, somewhat poetic??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27796963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiltSoda/pseuds/SpiltSoda
Summary: “Where are you?” You ask, upon seeing my unfocused eyes staring at the pristine white ceiling, the only other sound is the beeping of a machine, the scent of chemicals that I've grown so accustomed to, the bed of which I’m laying on uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. You try to mask the fear and worry in your voice, but I see right through your facade, I always have. “In the past,” I answer, the ghost of a smile resting on my face.





	In The Past

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like May so bear with it. Also there wasn't a 'Mother-Child Relationship' tag but the gender of the 'child' in this story isn't specified. Honestly a lot of things in this aren't specified so let your imagination run wild.

“Where are you?” You ask, upon seeing my unfocused eyes staring at the pristine white ceiling, the only other sound is the beeping of a machine, the scent of chemicals that I've grown so accustomed to, the bed of which I’m laying on uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. You try to mask the fear and worry in your voice, but I see right through your facade, I always have. “In the past,” I answer, the ghost of a smile resting on my face. 

“In the past; before you were born, before I had responsibilities. When all I did was play out in the sun and pick the best flowers to make a bouquet as a gift to someone special. Looking back, the bouquets must’ve looked utterly atrocious, with the roots still attached to the weeds and dirt I never bothered to wash away, but she still accepted them with a genuine smile on her face. She would thank me and say I’d done a good job and I’d beam with glee at the praise, my smile full of gaps of teeth that had fallen out due to the unstoppable force of growing up.

In the past; when my hair was done for me, pulled into a high ponytail or plaited into thick braids, every morning before setting off to kindergarten to learn about the proper ways to write the alphabet and how to count using our fingers. When education was more about playing with others than actually absorbing information. When I’d come back to a warm meal made with so much love and affection you could taste it with every bite, she would wipe my face to rid the evidence of a messy eater as many times as I had done with you. 

In the past; when all I had to worry about was getting good grades and making her proud. Before I learnt what a cruel place this was. When I still played in the Sun, but with companions instead of playing alone searching for dandelions. When I hung out with said companions at the local mall or at the park chatting away with happiness dripping from every word that came out of my mouth.” I glance at you, you are afraid, afraid of missing to catch even a single word of my tale. It is one of the only talents of mine that I still possess, the ability to read you like an open book. I open my mouth to continue.

“In the past; when I’ve had my heart broken for the first time, I do not remember what happened prior, I can only remember the accounts of what happened after. When I felt like I wasn’t enough and never will be enough. However, whenever I didn’t feel enough, she would reassure me saying how I am more than enough and that this feeling was only temporary. She was right, she always was. She always knew what to say and when to say it. I looked up to her so much that I wanted to be exactly like her when I grew up. I do not know if I’ve achieved that feat, it is not up to me to be the judge of that. It is such a shame that you have never met her, she would’ve loved you almost as much as I.

In the past; when it was the first time I lived in a house without her. I was a few thousand miles away from home, I was there to further my education. I was afraid, but it was the type of fear that was exhilarating, being on foreign land opened up a door to more experiences. I was not yet used to doing things on my own, but I knew I had to, it was a part of growing up. There were many times I wanted to give up, to pack up and go home to her, but I knew that wasn’t an option. Being here was the only thing she had asked from me, to make something big of myself. 

In the past; when I first met him. If someone told me that we were to be a family in a decade or so I would not believe them, but that was exactly what happened. We were polar opposites and yet completely the same. Two sides of the same coin, we were. I found home in him as he had done with me. 

In the past; when she had just gone, and the grief was too much for me to bear. He did his best to comfort me, to help me get over the pain, but we both knew that this was something that I could only do alone. I wasn’t used to waking up to a world she was not in. It took me a long time to finally accept it, and I still hope she is looking down on me as I hoped for many years ago.

In the past; when you had just come into this cruel world, but I would never let you know that, I would protect you for as long as I live. I never could've thought that my heart still had more love to give, but I was wrong. I’ve never loved anything as much as I love you, more than her, and certainly more than him. He could not take offense over the fact that I love you so much more than he, as he himself loved you more than I. We would give our lives to ensure yours, and that is exactly what he did. 

In the past; when I was left to make sure you grew up happy and satisfied. When you were at the age where all you had to care about was which toy you’ll be receiving for your birthday. When it was my turn to receive colorful stick-men drawings of our family. It made me swell with happy sadness whenever I saw that you had included him in your art despite being too young to remember how much he loved you.” I see your eyes, ones that resemble his so much, are glistening with the past. It is only then when I realize I have been crying. “Why do the good die young?” you ask, wiping your tears. I can not think of a suitable answer, so instead I say “Are you implying that I am not good?” You laugh at that, I laugh too. My laughter turns to hacking, you are instantly at my side running your hand in circles down my back, something that I did to you whenever you were ill. 

“Do you miss the past?” 

“Yes”

I answer faster than you expected, it startled you.

“But I would not trade it for the present.” 

I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

When I awake, I am greeted with an embrace. At first I think it’s you, but when the strong arms pull away, I am faced with him in front of me and her at my side.


End file.
